How did your mom affect your writing life? How did she make a difference in your life?
I suppose I can say my mum is the main reason behind my love of writing. She taught me to read, well and truly before I went to school and has always had a passion for words. I grew up playing Scrabble and other word games with her.
Even now we talk about the books we’ve been reading, recommending favourite authors, etc. We love entering contests, especially if you have to make up a poem or write 25 words or less.
When I said I was writing a novel she asked what took me so long. She says things to me like, “You can write a novel standing on your ear”!
She is my inspiration and when I have my novel published she will be my one person publicity team. She’s the best mum ever.
- from Heather
One of the things we celebrate in May is Mother’s Day. While I believe that everyday should be an “I love you, Mom!” Day, I know that coming up with a special tribute for this special woman in our life is important. Here’s mine:
WRITING ABOUT MOMS*
by Shai Coggins
My mom never liked the idea that I wanted to be a writer. It didn’t seem like a sensible career choice. She believed that the only way I could prove my worth was if I became a doctor. But without her knowledge, she was actually the one who sparked my interest in writing.
As a child, I saw an old notebook in my mom’s room that was filled with
poetry. They were poems by other authors written in her handwriting. It was then that I knew how my mom loved poems, even if she said otherwise. That was why I began to copy poems in my own notebooks, until I learned how to write my own.
Here, then, is a poem I wrote in memory of that time when I first fell in love with words…
ALONE IN MY MOTHER’S ROOM
The leaves were etched with colored flowers.
I didn’t know my mother kept leaves,
nor liked flowers.
But I saw them in her old trunk -
Of love letters and dreams,
Of pictures and hopes,
Of books and memories.
I didn’t know my mother -
Loved and dreamt,
Looked young and hoped,
Read and remembered.
None of these seemed to belong to my mother.
Neither do I.
But the leaves with colored flowers were there,
Tucked in-between love letters, pictures, and books.
And when I looked in the mirror,
It was her eyes that stared back at me.
When I remember just how much my mom had to give up in order to raise a family, I realize she must’ve given up a lot of her dreams in the process. For all I know, being a poet or a writer might be one of those dreams.
© 1999-2005 Sheila Ann Manuel-Coggins
[This article was published in a slightly different format at Suite101’s Reading on Writing column.]
How about you? How did your mom affect your writing life? How did she make a difference in your life?
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